Occasionally, I gave up.
And every time I said goodbye –
that was when I learnt how to cry.
We taught each other how to get to the closest hell.
We chose the short cut and the twisted spell.
And I could have broken you at the start,
but you had a such good heart.
Now I walk around
with my face behind my frown.
Yet I see faces of need,
staring at me from the bastards’ seats.
What could help with the case
of us creating this mess?
I wish one of us knew best.
All I said and done has left me out.
Better find a better way than go without.